


i hope it's not a dream

by softbeoms



Category: TOMORROW X TOGETHER | TXT (Korea Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Feelings Realization, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Introspection, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Some Humor, beomgyu actively thirsting: the fic, i was shocked @ myself bc of how dramatic it was, some angst in the form of negative self-talk but we kick its ass dw, the most dramatic confession scene???, this actually turned out a lot sweeter than i expected so go figure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:02:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25035151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softbeoms/pseuds/softbeoms
Summary: “What do you feel for Yeonjun hyung?"And, huh. What a question. Whatdidhe feel?What did he feel for Yeonjun?(Or: Beomgyu was in love. Luckily, Yeonjun was too.)
Relationships: Choi Beomgyu/Choi Yeonjun
Comments: 27
Kudos: 264





	i hope it's not a dream

**Author's Note:**

> so this is the by-product of listening to a playlist of mine titled "for the summertime fling you'll never have". heh.
> 
> (trust me it's happier than you might think.) 
> 
> also wow this started as me trying to make a funny thing. turned into Self-Indulgent Schmoop. but i can't really complain. 
> 
> also also, a lot of assumptions were made about what txt's dorm looks like while i was writing this. so take the descriptions of that with a grain of salt! (like fr do they have a couch now? i honestly don't know.) 
> 
> unbeta-ed, as usual. we die like men. 
> 
> oof and if you want mood music, i wrote most of this fic with "talk to me" by red velvet (also the song i lifted the title from!), "from eden" by hozier, and "honeybee" by the head and the heart on loop. 
> 
> **if you like it, please don't hesitate to leave a comment and kudos!**
> 
> **[DISCLAIMER: TXT AS DEPICTED HERE ARE NOT MEANT TO REFLECT THE MEMBERS IN REAL LIFE WHATSOEVER. THE CHARACTERS HERE ARE PURELY FICTIONAL.]**

It was a heatwave, the T.V. said. 

Beomgyu, who was fanning himself with a stray school notebook, was inclined to agree. He felt like he was bathing, but in the grossest way possible, sweat making his clothes cling to his body in ways that he never thought they could cling. The Seoul humidity made it worse; he wondered more than once if this was what it felt like to inhale soup. 

The other members were just as inclined to move as he was, which meant that they were spreadeagled in similar deflated piles at different points in the dorm. From where Beomgyu was, he could see Soobin’s feet dangling off the armrest of the couch, Taehyun’s torso splayed across their glass dining table in a desperate attempt to get _some_ cool into his system. Hueningkai was near the cracked-open windows if the periodic noises of suffering that were coming from that direction were anything to go by. 

Beomgyu himself had given on up things; he just made a spot for himself on their living room floor (all four square feet of it) and occasionally made the Herculean effort of lifting his arm to fan at his face. This was really the worst possible time for their AC unit to break down. 

“Aaaaaaaaah,” someone said, probably Hueningkai, and Beomgyu was deeply impressed at how he managed to encapsulate so much emotion in just one elongated wail. Beomgyu could only dream of that eloquence. Being multilingual really wired your brain differently. 

He was contemplating taking up Duolingo again when their front door opened, revealing an incredibly disheveled Yeonjun, who groaned the minute he caught sight of his bandmates. 

“Why is it hot here too?” he whined, stomping his way in, and usually Beomgyu would laugh at the childishness but he worried that doing so might deplete the moisture in his mouth. It didn’t help that Yeonjun decided it would be funny to plop down on top of him, causing Beomgyu to release a noise that was similar enough to a death rattle that Soobin looked up in concern. Their leader didn’t see his state as concerning, however, and went back to starfishing on the couch. _Soak his socks in vinegar later_ , Beomgyu’s brain plotted feebly. 

“Hyung,” he croaked, wiggling as much as the heat and Yeonjun’s weight would allow him. “Hyung please have mercy.” 

Yeonjun said nothing, sighing and settling further onto Beomgyu and _fuck_ he could feel Yeonjun’s _sweat_ transferring to him, this was so disgusting on a whole lot of levels. 

“Hyung,” he tried again, forcing more of his weight onto the floor to try and avoid any more sweat from dripping on him. “Hyung, I can feel _your_ sweat running down _my_ neck. Please get off of me please, I’m actually begging,” 

Thankfully, the older listened this time, huffing all the way as he straightened. “You’re no fun,” he whined, reaching to his waist and peeling off his shirt and _wow_ okay perhaps this was worse? Beomgyu felt his breath stop on the way out of his body. (Yeah, this was way worse.) 

Yeonjun’s back was to him, and Beomgyu thanked all his lucky stars for that fact because he _knew_ for a fact that he was red from the neck up, and he wasn’t confident that he could pass it off as the heat getting to him. 

“Yah, Beomgyu-ah,” Yeonjun said suddenly, making Beomgyu jolt. The older’s neck was craned back to look at him, and Beomgyu hastily shut his mouth. (He didn’t even feel it drop open, my god he needed to get a grip.) “Wipe hyung’s back,” 

Beomgyu was suddenly met with a face-full of wet t-shirt. “Hyung what the fuck,” he spat, flinging the t-shirt off his face like it burned. 

“Language,” Soobin mumbled. They ignored him. 

“Wipe my back,” Yeonjun whined, and Beomgyu was done for. He was baking in Seoul heat with a broken AC unit and his bandmate was asking him to wipe his sweaty back. Beomgyu was going to die. “Come oooooon,”

“You are disgusting,” was all he could think of saying, groaning as he sat up and reached for the t-shirt that he’d thrown away. 

“And you’re dramatic,” 

“I’m about to wipe your sweaty back with your sweaty t-shirt, I’m allowed to be dramatic.” 

“My god Beomgyu, just do it already.” At that, Yeonjun leaned backward, his back hitting Beomgyu’s shoulder and _lord have mercy on his soul_. He was going to have to figure out what the hell was wrong with him when all this was over; he was heating up all over because of _Yeonjun_. What kind of brain damage did he sustain in the past eight hours that caused him to feel like this? 

He’d froze up for too long apparently, causing Yeonjun to smack him to get him to move. “Yeah, yeah, I’m doing it,” he said, grabbing Yeonjun’s shoulder and pushing him upright, his other hand making weak passes at the older’s back with the t-shirt. Yeonjun complained that he was being too slow but Beomgyu ignored him, wiping a few more times and declaring he was done. He dropped the shirt in Yeonjun’s lap and let go off of his shoulder. 

But letting go was a big mistake because Yeonjun came crashing back into him, sending them both toppling back onto the floor. 

“You ass,” Beomgyu groaned. He’d hit the back of his head quite harshly on the way down and it throbbed like a motherfucker. 

“Language,” Yeonjun said, although his hand did reach for Beomgyu’s head, mindlessly prodding at what ended up being Beomgyu’s forehead. “Did you get hurt?” 

“Yes,” 

Yeonjun made a small, regretful noise. An apology. Beomgyu patted his arm to let him know it was accepted. 

“Wait, Beomgyu are you hurt?” Soobin asked, sitting up in alarm. Beomgyu waved his hand to let him know that he was fine. “You sure?” 

“Yes hyung,” Beomgyu said, and perhaps it was the heat making everyone a little wearier of movement, but Soobin nodded and laid back down. He would usually be on his feet to check on Beomgyu by now. It was understandable though; everyone was a little wilted at the edges in this weather. 

How long they were there, left to bake in the abominable heat, Beomgyu didn’t know. He barely felt time pass as they laid there, his existence narrowed down to the sweat running down his back and the points of contact between him and the boy on top of him that felt like a live wire underneath his skin. 

(Beomgyu needed to figure out what the fuck was happening to him, but later. Much later, when he’d showered again (it would be his third shower of the day, how ridiculous was that) and cleared his head in the process.)

“I think we should start dinner,” Taehyun said after a while, his face still smushed into their dining table. “It’s almost six, I think.” 

“Ugh,” Soobin said, which, same. Their leader stood up though, the most movement that Beomgyu had seen from him today, and stretched with a groan. “Hyung,” he said to Yeonjun, who made a feeble noise in reply. “We have to cook.” He padded over to where they were and delivered a weak kick to Yeonjun’s ankle, who groaned loudly in protest before sitting up, freeing Beomgyu at last. He got to his feet, stretched, and if Beomgyu watched the way the muscles in his back moved as he stretched well, that was none of anyone’s business. 

But then Yeonjun turned to him, giving Beomgyu an eye-full of his bare chest, and extended a hand. 

It took a while for his eyes to actually connect with the hand that was proffered to him, but Beomgyu was only a man, and a heat-addled one at that. “Huh?” was all he could say, meeting Yeonjun’s eye and dammit, he looked too smug for Beomgyu’s liking. 

“Come help,” Yeonjun said, and Beomgyu knew there was no getting out of this, so he sighed, grabbed the older’s hand, and let himself be heaved up. He crashed into Yeonjun’s chest, and they nearly bowled over again had Yeonjun not wrapped an arm around Beomgyu’s waist to keep them steady. 

“Careful Beomie,” Yeonjun said, his grip steadfast and his gaze unwavering. Beomgyu felt like melting where he stood. 

He was let go seconds later, left to stand like a simpleton in the middle of their living room as Yeonjun went off to help Soobin in the kitchen. He fumed silently, feeling vaguely electric until he noticed that Taehyun was looking at him, still planted at the table but now sporting a raised eyebrow. Beomgyu did the mature thing and stuck out his tongue before following Yeonjun into the kitchen. 

Later. He’d figure it out later. 

“Have you figured it out yet?” Yeonjun asked, leaning into Beomgyu’s space to peer at the phone screen in his hands. 

Beomgyu huffed, tried to keep his frustration out of his voice. “Not yet,” 

They had a new choreography to learn for one of their b-sides, and it was giving Beomgyu more trouble than he would like. It wasn’t like he didn’t have the moves in his system, but it was just that his system didn’t know what to do with the moves now that they were there. His angles were all off, his steps unsure and awkward. Things weren’t translating in his body, and it was coming through in the recording. 

They’d been at it for hours now, the other members splayed across the practice room floor and breathing so heavily that Beomgyu had the absurd feeling that he wasn’t actually breathing by himself, that they were the ones bringing air in and out of his lungs. Yeonjun had been one of them, had, up until that point, on his back and panting. But then he’d gotten up, crossed the short distance to get to Beomgyu, tucked in his little corner and bent over their practice footage, and knelt next to him with a little beleaguered sigh. 

Beomgyu didn’t really know what to do with it. He wasn’t sure if he wanted comfort just now; it was obvious that he didn’t do well, he just wanted to figure it out for now and then do all the talking later. 

But Yeonjun was so near, his face right next to Beomgyu’s, and there was something overwhelming about the older lately, something that Beomgyu hadn’t had the time nor the energy to think about, that made it a bit harder to be so close. It was converging with his own frustration at himself, and the mixture was the kind of confusing that he really did not care to unpack right now. 

“Do you want to go for another run?” Yeonjun asked, his voice gentle but pitched loudly enough to carry to the others, who were sitting up in preparation for Beomgyu’s answer. 

The thought of going again made him want to vomit, so he shook his head no. The clock on the wall told him it was well past midnight, and they’d been going at it for hours. The members didn’t need to stay behind just because he kept messing up. 

“You should go home,” he said instead, looking at Yeonjun, but it was directed to the others as well. He watched them all purse their lips, so synchronized that, on a good day, it would have made him smile. 

“You sure hyungie?” Hueningkai asked, head tilted to the side in worry, and this was something that Beomgyu loved about his members. That they were a unit in all that they did, yes, but they recognized when he needed space. When he needed to do something alone. And they let him do it. 

Beomgyu nodded, made an attempt at a smile, and shooed them off. They all stood up, Soobin going to hug him as soon as they were on their feet. 

“I’ll call in an hour okay?” he said into Beomgyu’s hair. He nodded, squeezed their leader a little tighter. 

Taehyun was next, hugging him too, and lifted him off the ground a few inches to make him laugh. Beomgyu did laugh, hit Taehyun’s shoulder to get the younger put him down. 

Hueningkai went next, who slammed into Beomgyu with his arms wide open, squeezing him tight and lifting him, too. Beomgyu laughed, told the maknae not to break him. 

“I would never,” he said, pouting so harshly that Beomgyu hastily recanted his statement. He beamed then, setting Beomgyu down and moving away. 

Yeonjun was last, who stared at Beomgyu in concern for a few moments before sighing, holding his arms open. Beomgyu went to him, felt his hyung’s arms close in on him, and Beomgyu had felt like crying this whole time, but it was only now that the threat of tears felt, well, _threatening_. 

It was over quickly, Yeonjun letting go of him and ruffling his hair. The four of them left soon after that, shouting reminders at him to drink water and call if he needed anything. Beomgyu laughed as he waved them out, smiling honestly now. 

The silence that followed the thud of the door closing brought him back to earth. Beomgyu sniffed, stared at his reflection in the mirror, at the darkness of his under-eyes and the sweat stains on his shirt. There was always pride in the process, he knew. These were just parts of his process, and when he finally achieved those brief moments of divinity, he would be thankful for the process then. Thankful of the hours it took to get him there. 

He rolled back his shoulders, started the count in his head, and began. 

“You didn’t call Soobin back,” was the first thing Beomgyu heard, stepping into the silent darkness of their dorm. He jolted in surprise at the voice, whirling around to find Yeonjun at their couch, perched on the armrest, his arms crossed. He looked more disappointed than Beomgyu had ever seen him, and that alone sent shame into his chest. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled, bending down to pull his shoes off and to avoid seeing the look on Yeonjun’s face. He heard a sigh, some rustling, a thud of weight falling onto the couch. When he straightened, Yeonjun was fully on the couch, and the look on his face was still there. Beomgyu turned, walked to their open closet, shedding his jacket as he went. He was too tired to deal with this, to feel guilty, because he _did_ forget to call Soobin back, so absorbed in practicing that he didn’t register that his phone was ringing until he had taken a water break ten minutes later. But that was something he was going to apologize for, to _Soobin_ , and make up for tomorrow. 

“You worried him you know,” Yeonjun continued, and Beomgyu could feel his stare digging into his back. “I told him I’d wait up for you.” 

“Sorry,” he said again. He didn’t want to get annoyed, not when it was so late, and not at Yeonjun, so he swallowed back any words he might regret. “I’ll apologize to him tomorrow.” Well, later, he guessed. It was close to four when he’d left the company building. Thank the gods they didn’t have a schedule until the late evening. 

“Yah, what about me?” Yeonjun whined just as Beomgyu was about to go into their room to get toiletries and clothes. “Aren’t you going to apologize to me? I stayed up so late for you, you know.” _For you_ —it rang in his head like some awful echo before he could stop it. _Foryouforyouforyouforyou_. (Beomgyu needed to calm down.) 

He turned to face his hyung slowly, a little disbelieving at the sudden shift of mood, and found a pouting face peeking over the backrest of their couch. _You’ve got to be kidding me_ , he thought to himself. 

“Uh?” he said, couldn’t help himself from being obtuse in purpose. This dynamic was more familiar; Beomgyu sunk into the grooves of it with haste and desperation. Anything other than disappointment, he’d take. 

Yeonjun pouted harder. Threw a throw pillow at Beomgyu, which he managed to dodge. “Apologize to me,” 

Beomgyu pressed his lips together to keep from laughing. He picked up the throw pillow and slugged it back at Yeonjun instead. The older wasn’t so lucky in dodging it, however, getting a face-full of pillow and sputtering. Beomgyu couldn’t help laughing, slapping a hand over his mouth when he remembered where he was and what time it was. 

“What disrespect,” Yeonjun tutted, disappearing to lie on the couch properly, one arm shooting up in the air in a dramatic gesture. “I stay up late waiting for my dongsaeng like a good hyung, risking my beauty sleep and my health—”

“Hyung oh my god,”

“—just for that dongsaeng to not only refuse to apologize for keeping me up so late, but also throw a pillow at my face.” He breathed out a long, exaggerated sigh, his arm that was up in the air slinging over the backrest in a limp display of dramatics. “Woe is me, truly.” 

And sure, they were joking around, and maybe it was just the late hour and his own exhaustion causing him to be more sensitive than usual, but Yeonjun’s words did sting. “I didn’t ask you to stay up for me, you know.”

And Yeonjun must have heard it in the tone of Beomgyu’s voice. He scrambled to sit up, bracing his hands on the backrest and peering at Beomgyu. His face softened the moment their eyes met, melted into concern, and he reached out a hand. “Ah, hyung is sorry. I thought we were joking around now,” 

Beomgyu walked forward, always a little helpless to Yeonjun’s pull. “We were,” he said, letting himself be pulled into a hug. It was a bit weird with the couch between them, but Beomgyu had felt more at peace now than he had this whole evening. (Beomgyu needed to figure that out soon.) “I’m just being stupid because I’m tired. ‘M sorry.” 

He felt more than saw Yeonjun shaking his head, one of his hands going to Beomgyu’s hair. “No more apologies. Even if I asked for it,” he added, feeling that Beomgyu was about to interrupt. (And so what if he totally was.) “Should have thought about how you’ve been feeling,” 

_You already were, though_ , Beomgyu wanted to say. _You stayed up for me. You tried to cheer me up. All you’ve done so far is be thoughtful of how I’m feeling._

But he said nothing, couldn’t trust his words to come out the way he wanted them to, and clung on a little tighter instead. Yeonjun must have felt it, if his chuckle was anything to go by. 

“You’re gonna tell me what happened?” Yeonjun asked after a while. Beomgyu could see the sky starting to lighten beyond their window. Almost daybreak. They should sleep soon. 

“I will,” he said, muffled into the cotton of Yeonjun’s shirt. “Maybe later.” 

“Okay.” 

(It didn’t hit him like an earthquake or come to him in a fireworks display. Beomgyu had expected more, really, but maybe this made more sense for him; to slip into something quietly and realize it belatedly, realize it gently. It was against a lot of the common perceptions people had of him, sure, because Beomgyu tended to be loud, talkative. He moved freely. He lived like no one was watching. 

But Beomgyu loved quietly, always had, and it was fitting that this was how it was realized—not shouted from the top of rooftops or yelled in the middle of a thunderstorm, but rather spoken quietly into the humid, afternoon air.)

“You like Yeonjun hyung, don’t you?” Taehyun asked, but it didn’t feel like a question. Beomgyu was on his back, panting up at the ceiling, and maybe it was something about the summer heat that made time slow to a crawl, but everything felt like honey slipping through his fingers. Slow to fall and hard to grasp. 

“Huh,” he said intelligently, and he didn’t have to see Taehyun to imagine the vaguely frustrated expression he must have on his face right now. The younger turned to him then, twisting at the waist, and yeah, Beomgyu was spot-on with the expression he’d envisioned. 

“You,” Taehyun said slowly, like Beomgyu was a toddler who was being difficult on purpose (he was wondering whether he should resent that or not), “like Yeonjun hyung. Don’t you?” He raised both eyebrows at Beomgyu, looked him straight in the eye, and Taehyun really could be scary if he wanted to be. 

But Beomgyu didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t thought about it, no matter his personal reminders. It was too easy to just feel, to fall headlong into the headiness that being near Yeonjun gave him, the quiet joy of teasing him and being teased back, the exhilaration of being chased around the dorm whenever he pushed it _just_ that bit too far. It was too easy to just _be_ , so that was what Beomgyu did.

“Uh,” he said, and Taehyun spun around completely, delivering a sharp smack to Beomgyu’s chest which, _ow_ what the fuck. 

“Taehyun, what the fuck,” he near-yelled, one of his hands coming up to soothe the burn. Taehyun was unbothered, however, and only continued to look at Beomgyu. There was probably no getting out of this. 

“I know I’m probably being nosy and being too much,” Taehyun said at last, “but watching you two dance around each other like idiots is getting too much for me and my stomach.” 

“What,” he said, and Beomgyu really didn’t know how to make words right now, much less sentences. He blamed the heat. And Taehyun. 

Taehyun made a small, frustrated little _squee_ noise, which Beomgyu would coo at if it wasn’t so scary in this context. “Okay maybe I’m attacking this at the wrong angle,” he said, more to himself than to Beomgyu. He met Beomgyu’s eye, fiercely serious. “What do you feel for Yeonjun hyung?”

And, huh. What a question. What _did_ he feel?

He felt... _lovely_ , if it were to be distilled into its purest, simplest form. He always felt lovely around Yeonjun. It was a warm spot in his chest, what he felt whenever he was with Yeonjun, or thought of him. It was golden, a small patch of sunlight for Beomgyu to bask in. It only grew in size whenever Yeonjun was around him. They could be doing anything and it would make Beomgyu the happiest he could possibly be that day. 

What did he feel for Yeonjun? 

He felt like Yeonjun could ask him of anything and he’d try his best to get it for him. He felt like he wanted to be seen, by Yeonjun specifically. It was one thing to be looked at but another to be _seen_ , and Beomgyu wanted both. Beomgyu wanted whatever he could offer him. 

_Oh_. 

“Oh,” he said, involuntary. His voice was hushed, barely a sound at all. 

In the stretch of silence, only the faint whirring of an electric fan was heard. Taehyun’s gaze was knowing. Beomgyu looked him in the eye, and the younger smiled. 

“Are you going to tell him?” 

Beomgyu couldn’t help his scoff. Now, why would he do that?

“Why not?” Taehyun asked, and Beomgyu realized that he must have said that last thought aloud. “He wouldn’t be mean about it,”

And that was true. Regardless of the bickering and fussing and fighting that Beomgyu and Yeonjun did on a daily basis, they were never mean, never seriously. The last thing Yeonjun could ever be was malicious. But softly delivered rejection was still rejection, and the fall out of it was not something Beomgyu wanted to think about. They were still bandmates, still had to work together, and Beomgyu’s heart clenched at the thought of having to be near someone he wanted and could not have. 

He said so, his words slow and careful. It was weird to verbalize it. 

Taehyun nodded through his explanation, a thoughtful look on his face. When Beomgyu finished talking, he didn’t speak for a while, thinking over his next words. When they came, they came gently. 

“Why are you so sure he won’t want you?” 

And Beomgyu almost laughed. For all he was, and all he believed himself to be, Choi Yeonjun was still Choi Yeonjun. 

And Beomgyu was Beomgyu. 

But he didn’t want to say any of that, so he shrugged again. 

“Will you tell him? How you feel, I mean,” Taehyun said after a while. 

Beomgyu thought for a moment if he should lie, then decided for a half-truth instead. “Maybe,” 

“Choi Beomgyu, don’t make me hit you,” Yeonjun whispered, downright venomous. Beomgyu only laughed in his face, earning another elbow to his side. It hurt but it didn’t hurt enough to make him stop what he was doing, which was tickling Yeonjun as the older tried to win a round of Smash Brothers. He’d already made Yeonjun lose the past two rounds, and Beomgyu knew there was only a little bit more before the older was snapped, and that was exactly what Beomgyu was gunning for. 

He couldn’t explain his reasons as to why he pestered Yeonjun so much, other than the fact that it was just so satisfying to get a rise out of him. The older was short-tempered, quick to react, and it made him the perfect target for most of Beomgyu’s schemes. 

(And it wasn’t like Yeonjun didn’t enjoy getting back at him, anyway. There was always an equal opposite reaction for every prank Beomgyu pulled. It was just how they were.) 

But he couldn’t lie, having Yeonjun’s attention felt nice, too. Sometimes, Beomgyu internally made fun of how juvenile he was being, the nineteen-year-old equivalent of a boy tugging on his crush’s pigtails, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop either. It came naturally to him, to their dynamic in general. 

When he made Yeonjun lose again, Beomgyu was ready. 

He bolted off the couch immediately, laughing breathlessly when he heard Yeonjun run after him, an almost inhuman growl coming out of the older. 

“Yah, Choi Beomgyu, get back here!” 

He only laughed, a little hysterical, and dodged the older when he got too close. 

Their dorm was tiny and didn’t allow much space for running. The most Beomgyu could do was reach his and Soobin’s shared bedroom, lock the door, and hope for the best. 

At some point, they made it back to the couch, Beomgyu on one side of it and Yeonjun on the other. The older was closer to the rooms, which made Beomgyu’s plan a little bit harder, but he could probably manage. He’d have to, really, because the look on Yeonjun’s face made the idea of getting near him less and less appealing. 

He faked to the left, and the older flinched in the same direction but scowled when he realized the ploy. Beomgyu laughed, and he really wasn’t helping his case here; his laughter only made Yeonjun more thunderous. He lunged a few more times in different directions, Yeonjun eventually learning not to fall for it. He leaned forward instead, bracing his hands against the backrest, and Beomgyu had to try very hard not to look at his biceps. 

“You’re trapped aren’t you, cub,” Yeonjun said and oh, Beomgyu had to suppress a shudder there. Yeonjun had taken to calling him “cub” recently, a call back to the animal fans had assigned to him, and the first time he’d called Beomgyu that, he’d turned so red that Soobin had asked him, jokingly, if he had a fever. The effect was the same, still, and Beomgyu cursed his inability to grow immunity to that damned name. Yeonjun was smirking now, pleased at the blush that was definitely on Beomgyu’s face by now. 

“Why so red, cub?”

“Shut _up_ , oh my god.” 

“What’s the problem?” Yeonjun asked, folding his arms onto each other and bending down to put his chin on them. He was _mocking_ Beomgyu now, how dare he. 

Beomgyu pursed his lips, considered his options. Yeonjun’s new position made him lose a lot of mobility; it would take him a little longer to reach Beomgyu if made a run for it now, but Yeonjun’s arms were long. He’d still probably reach Beomgyu, but there was a slight chance he wouldn’t. Beomgyu would have to take that chance. 

The older was chuckling as he took in Beomgyu’s silence, probably thinking it was because of a lack of strategy. _Well,_ Beomgyu thought, a little mutinous, _let’s see if you can get me._

He bolted to the left, dodging Yeonjun’s incoming arm with a yelp, and his hand was a hair’s breadth away from the doorknob but—

“Gotcha,” Yeonjun whispered, yanking Beomgyu to his chest. His mouth was right by Beomgyu’s ear, and he couldn’t suppress his shudder this time. Every point of contact felt like an individual little fire, and Beomgyu was almost thankful for the tight grip around his waist; his knees felt a little weak.

He tried wriggling out of Yeonjun’s grasp, but he knew that his strength was nothing in comparison to the older’s, so he braced himself for the onslaught of tickling instead. 

And came it did, Yeonjun’s two hands going to his waist and digging mercilessly into his sides. Beomgyu could only laugh and flail, trying and failing to get away. 

“Stop, stop, okay, I’m sorry!” he yelled when it all became too much. Yeonjun kept going for a while but thankfully stopped, giggling a little as Beomgyu tried to regain his breath. 

His mission done, he flopped back onto the couch, grinning up at Beomgyu and giving him no warnings whatsoever before tugging him down to sit next to him. Beomgyu barely managed to stop himself from crashing into the older, falling into place next to him with a dull _thud_. He hit Yeonjun’s shoulder in retaliation, but the older only smirked, picking up his controller again and going back to his game. 

For a while that was all they did, Yeonjun playing and Beomgyu watching him. He was still sat far too close to Yeonjun, and Beomgyu tried to avoid thinking about that. It was one of those annoying things that he’d started taking note of, ever since that afternoon with Taehyun in their practice room. All the tiny ways they touched and met, or the ways Yeonjun tried to grab his attention without asking for it. The ways they yielded to each other, conscious and otherwise. 

When Yeonjun won a match at last, he whooped in victory, holding out a hand for Beomgyu to hi-five, which Beomgyu was happy to do. He clapped for the older, whooping along with him, unapologetically loud. Thank fuck they were alone in the dorm right now; they would have most definitely been yelled at by now. Or worse. 

Yeonjun put his controller down once he was done basking in his win, and looked at Beomgyu for a moment before throwing an arm over his shoulders. He tugged Beomgyu even closer to his side, which Beomgyu didn’t know was possible. But Yeonjun managed it, throwing his other arm over Beomgyu and leaning back, dragging Beomgyu down with him. 

“Hyung what—?”

“Sssshhh,” 

It dawned on Beomgyu that he was trying to get them to lie down, so he moved accordingly, ending up on top of Yeonjun, his chin perched on the older’s chest. Beomgyu wondered if the older could feel the way his heart was thundering in his chest. He hoped not. 

Yeonjun, however, looked calm. He seemed to content to stare at Beomgyu, who was wondering how the fuck he ended up here in this moment in time. He didn’t know whether to be happy about his position or despair at the fact that Yeonjun was so close. 

Yeonjun’s eyes flickered to and fro on his face, as if committing his features to memory, before landing back on his eyes and smiling, achingly gentle and dear god Beomgyu was going to die. He was really going to die. 

“Cub,” he said, voice just above a whisper. Beomgyu’s heart was in his throat. 

“Hm?” 

“How do you feel about coffee?” 

Huh. Beomgyu’s brain and heart both paused for a moment. What kind of question was that? 

“Like, the drink?” he asked, getting more confused when the Yeonjun shook his head. He was gnawing on his bottom lip, looking for all the world like he was nervous. If Beomgyu were braver, he would have reached out and tugged that bottom lip free with his thumb. But Beomgyu wasn’t brave; he was a coward, and a confused coward at that. 

“Wait, so like, what, coffee in general? Like as a concept?” 

Yeonjun shook his head again, and Beomgyu could feel him begin to fidget underneath him. His bottom lip was nearly white underneath all the pressure from his teeth. 

“Hyung, you’ll break the skin, stop that.” 

The older let go of his bottom lip, and Beomgyu couldn’t stop himself from watching as it bounced back into place, redder and plumper. He wanted so badly to lean in, feel the plush of it against his own mouth. When he made eye contact with Yeonjun again, there was a fascinating new darkness to his gaze. Silkier, almost. Beomgyu felt electric. 

“How do you feel about coffee,” Yeonjun repeated, breathy, “with me?” 

And then Beomgyu’s brain crashed. 

He reeled backward, straightening until he was staring down at Yeonjun, his knees planted on either side of the older’s hips and if he wasn’t so shell-shocked he would probably balk at how he was sitting— _straddling_ —Yeonjun right now, but nothing else was computing. Nothing else except ' _with me_ ', in that hushed, almost reverent way that Yeonjun said it. _Withmewithmewithmewithme_. What did he mean?

“What do you mean?” he asked, his heart beating so hard he was surprised it wasn’t echoing through their dorm. 

“Get coffee with me, Beomgyu.”

“In like...a bro way?” 

“No, oh my god,” Yeonjun said, frustrated. He sat up suddenly, his hands going to Beomgyu’s waist, and oh god he was so close now. Close enough to kiss— _no, Beomgyu, stop_. “Get coffee with me, Beomgyu,” Yeonjun repeated, giving equal weight to each word, looking at Beomgyu imploringly. 

“Hyung, you could really just say what you mean,” he said, a little hurt, a little out of patience. He didn’t like being condescended to. Why couldn’t he just say it directly?

Yeonjun sighed, threw his head back before fixing Beomgyu with a tiny glare, and maybe Beomgyu was just seeing things, but did he look _embarrassed_? “Do I really have to go on and say it?” he asked, and at the sight of Beomgyu’s unimpressed face, he breathed in sharply, as if to steel himself and then—

“Go on a date with me?” 

Of all the possible scenarios that Beomgyu could have dreamed up, none of them was this. Nothing could have prepared him for it. 

There was a jarring, painful silence. Beomgyu could only stare at Yeonjun, the shock freezing his body. He was dimly aware that his jaw had dropped slightly, but he couldn’t close it. He couldn’t do anything. 

“Cub?” Yeonjun asked, gentle, and oh lord that was another blow to his system right there. Beomgyu might be flat-lining. 

More silence. Beomgyu worked his jaw, continued to gape at the older like a fish. He wondered, distantly, what life would be like if he wasn’t such an embarrassment. 

“No,” he said, finally, his mouth moving on its own, and the way Yeonjun’s face crumpled afterward made his brain restart and go into overdrive. “Wait, that’s not what I meant.” 

“Cub, it’s fine,” Yeonjun said, sounding pained. He was trying to move Beomgyu off his lap, smiling a little crookedly at him, but there was hurt lingering in the corners of his mouth. Beomgyu did not like this one bit. “You don’t have to feel sorry about rejecting me—” 

“I’m not rejecting you!” he yelled, and then it was Yeonjun’s turn to freeze. At the sight of the older gaping at him, his mouth started running. “I’m just! Why me? Like, you could have anyone you know? You’re _you_ and I’m _me_ and just! You have a lot of better options and I’m trying to be like, a good bro here and lead you off to a good direction you know? Like why would _you_ want _me_ it’s just unrealistic—”

“Hey, wait,” Yeonjun cut him off. Beomgyu looked down at his lap where his fingers had twisted together without him realizing. He couldn’t look at him right now; his face felt like it could melt off the front of his skull, it was so hot. “Cub, look at me.” Beomgyu had no plans of doing that, thank you very much. He was going to have to book a flight or something, organize his exit from the band, and then fade into obscurity. He would never recover from this. 

“Cub,” Yeonjun repeated, and all of a sudden there were hands on Beomgyu’s cheeks, his palms feeling like ice against Beomgyu's hot skin. “Look at me?” Beomgyu still had no plans of doing that, but Yeonjun was lifting his face, so gentle that he couldn’t help but move with it, and then he was looking Yeonjun in the eye again. 

It was like a hit to the stomach, the way Yeonjun was looking at him right now, like he was somehow hurt on Beomgyu’s behalf. _Silly hyung_ , he couldn’t help but think, _why do you look so sad?_

Yeonjun breathed in, his following exhale ragged. “Why would you think I wouldn’t want you?” 

It felt like ice water had been poured over Beomgyu’s head. 

“When have I ever given you reason to want me?” he asked back, weighing his words very carefully. 

A new devastation unfolded on Yeonjun’s face. “Cub,” he said, his thumbs moving over Beomgyu’s cheeks, back and forth and back and forth. “Cub. Beomgyu. Baby.” He smiled a little, must have felt the way Beomgyu’s face heated anew. “I never needed a reason to want you. I just do.” 

And _oh_ , Beomgyu felt like flying. He was molten gold. He was a burning flame. He was every single firework going off at once. 

“But if you must hear reasons,” Yeonjun continued, leaning his forehead on Beomgyu’s, “I’ll give you reasons.” He cleared his throat, the dramatic ass that he was. Beomgyu wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all. 

“You are kind,” Yeonjun started, laughing when Beomgyu giggled, unable to stop himself. “You are one of the kindest people I know. You listen well, it’s one of the most comforting things about you. I know that if I had any problems I could go to you and feel _heard_ , feel _listened to_. You’re so _good_ , I can’t believe you don’t see that. You play along with my bullshit and still take me seriously. You’re sensitive to the feelings of everyone around you. You pick up on everyone’s moods and adjust when you need to. You’re a little energizer, a vitamin in human form.” He paused because Beomgyu started giggling again, helpless to stop it. “And I don’t know if you know this, but you’re also the prettiest person I have ever seen—” 

“Okay that’s enough,” Beomgyu stopped him. He couldn’t hear any more or else he might actually burn into ash. He was laughing, and so was Yeonjun, and Beomgyu had never known happiness to be so potent. He felt champagne giddy and he’d never even had champagne. “Stop, seriously, I might faint.” 

“Are you sure you want me to stop?” Yeonjun asked, the mischievous little shit. “I could go on and on and on and on—” 

“I get it!” Beomgyu yelled, leaning away from Yeonjun and putting his hands on the older’s shoulders. “I get it, oh my god.” 

Yeonjun laughed, the careless one that made him throw his head back that Beomgyu loved so much, and _god_ he was stunning. There was no sunlight coming in from outside, the lighting in their dorm was dim, and Yeonjun’s face was washed out with T.V. blue light, but he was still the most beautiful boy Beomgyu had ever seen. 

“So,” Yeonjun said when he calmed down, his hands dropping back to Beomgyu’s waist and squeezing. “How do you feel about coffee?” 

Beomgyu grinned. “Like, the drink?” 

Yeonjun groaned, groaned even louder when Beomgyu started howling with laughter. 

“Fuck off, oh my god!” he yelled at the ceiling, and they were truly lucky that they were alone right now. “We just had a dramatic moment back there! A meaningful, emotional one! I nearly cried!” 

“Hyung please, oh my god,” Beomgyu sputtered, still laughing. It felt good to be back in this. It was a good sign, Beomgyu thought; it meant that they wouldn’t change, dating or no. 

Oh god, _dating_. What a word. 

“Take me seriously, cub, come on,” Yeonjun huffed, and Beomgyu took the liberty of leaning in this time, forehead against forehead and nose against nose. 

“Ask me again hyung,” he whispered, unable to keep the grin from spreading across his face. He bit down on his lower lip in an attempt to stifle it, but to no avail. 

Yeonjun himself was grinning, wide and bright and lovely. “Go on a date with me?” 

“Okay,” 

**Author's Note:**

> epilogue: 
> 
> "You know," Taehyun said, watching on blankly as two of his hyungs made out shamelessly on their couch. "I think I preferred it when they were dancing around each other." 
> 
> Soobin chuckled, and then sighed. There was something vaguely long-suffering in that sigh. Taehyun could relate. "I would be inclined to agree if they weren't so happy right now." 
> 
> And, yeah that was true. The main reason Taehyun had thought to intervene in the way that he did in the first place was to get them to this point. He just hadn't prepared for the uh, more public aspects of their relationship, that's all. 
> 
> "Well I think it's great," Hueningkai said, because of course he thought it was great. Taehyun rolled his eyes good-naturedly, ruffled his friend's hair. 
> 
> A good few feet from them, Beomgyu and Yeonjun continued, blissfully ignorant to the three pairs of eyes looking on at them in varying shades of disgust. 
> 
> -:-:-
> 
> hope you liked it! <3  
> writing twt: [@altbeomjuns](https://twitter.com/altbeomjuns)  
> moodboard tweet is [here](https://twitter.com/altbeomjuns/status/1353958960785547265?s=20)


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